


Bottle Rockets

by anna-phora (xanaphorax)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angry Sweet Pea (Riverdale), Can't Feelings, Chemistry (both kinds), Communication Failure, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Scared to Love, Soft Sweet Pea (Riverdale), Temporarily Unrequited Love, Underage Drinking, partners to friends, stubborn sweet pea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanaphorax/pseuds/anna-phora
Summary: You don’t need feelings. You don’t need friends. You need to stop obsessing over the fact that Sweet Pea is spending his summer with Josie instead of lighting bottle rockets with you.
Relationships: Cheryl Blossom & Toni Topaz, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, Josie McCoy & Sweet Pea, Josie McCoy/Sweet Pea, Sweet Pea (Riverdale)/Reader, Sweet Pea (Riverdale)/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	Bottle Rockets

When it came down to it, it was all the Black Hood’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, the town wouldn’t have been so on edge and quick to shut down Southside High, ignoring years of hostility and prejudice and throwing over half of the student body into the already crowded halls of Riverdale High.

And while that itself was less than ideal, the situation would have at least been manageable if The Black Hood hadn’t murdered Midge. Because that changed everything.

That led to Fangs Fogarty getting arrested. Which prompted Ms. Klump to shoot Fangs. Which incited the riots and all of that wreckage. Which landed you in the seat next to Sweet Pea for the remainder of Physics.

The first day of the new seating arrangement came with little warning or fanfare—unless of course, you counted the fact that the trophy case was still cordoned off with caution tape and pretty much the entire student body all slipped on Southside Serpent jackets yesterday under threat of death from Veronica Lodge and Cheryl Blossom.

But still.

Walking into physics with your teacher mumbling “Your new seat is on the board—as if he _knew_ he was about to cause the Riots - Part 2–was the first indication that shit was about to go down. Looking at the list of names, with you being placed towards the back right corner and seated next to a kid whose name you did not recognize should have been your second clue. Because you knew everyone who was supposed to be in this class. And maybe if you’d used a little bit of deductive reasoning, you would have known who you were sitting next to before the hulking mountain of flannel and leather dropped into the seat next to you.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled, slamming his books on the table and pushing them up out of his way.

It was Sweet Pea. Of _all_ the people in this class, you were sat next to the angriest one of all. The one who hated Northsiders with every fiber of his being. So much so that he threw a _trashcan_ through the _trophy case._

 _And whose best friend was shot by his classmate’s mom,_ a little voice inside your head reminded you.

You ignored her, as you normally did when she brought up irrelevant or otherwise inconvenient facts.

“What?” he growled turning to meet your gaze.

You blinked twice, unaware that you had been staring at him and shook your head giving what you hoped was a casual shrug. “I just didn’t know that your name was–”

“Sweet Pea.” His brow furrowed even more than it had a second ago making his face even darker if that was possible. “My name is Sweet Pea.”

You rolled your eyes and looked back up to the front, your eyes landing on the projected seating chart once more. 

The rest of physics passed by in silence between the two of you, Sweet Pea keeping his head bent close to his notes and you keeping your eyes trained on Mr. Flutesnoot so you didn’t take note of any of the other empty chairs in the classroom.

* * *

The rest of the week followed the same pattern as the first day. You arrived first and took your seat. Sweet Pea arrived a little later and dropped angrily into his. The two of you would silently complete your work, pack up as quickly and quietly as possible when the bell rang and then dash off to your last class of the day.

It wasn’t until the second week of the new seating arrangement that things took a turn. When you walked into the class, all eyes were on you. You walked down the center aisle to your seat, still feeling the eyes of your classmates on your back. It wasn’t until you took your seat and looked up at the board that you understood why they were staring at you.

On the board, in Mr. Flutesnoot’s scrawling handwriting were two words: _bottle rockets_.

Your stomach clenched as you took hold of your pencil, opening up to a blank piece of notebook paper and staring fixated ahead, your face stony. Because of this, you noticed Sweet Pea enter the classroom and the way that everyone’s eyes seemed to flick from you to him. “This is gonna be good,” Alex Cabot whispered behind you. Hushed snickers dotted the classroom, and this didn’t go unnoticed by Sweet Pea. He scowled at row after row of students as he passed them on his way to you. The look did nothing of course, not even dissuading the oggling as he dropped into the seat next to yours.

You looked over at him and then put your eyes back onto your paper as the bell rang. Mr. Flutesnoot came back into the classroom. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” he grinned and you rolled your eyes. He always seemed like an announcer whenever he was starting class. “I hope you’re ready for our final lab of the year.”

“Unit-Bomber is,” Cabot snickered. “She’s been waiting for this day all year.”

“Probably ready to finish off the school,” his partner, Fletcher Foley, added and the two boys chuckled.

“And I bet her partner is just dying to help her.”

“They still haven’t repaired the banner he cut.”

You picked up your pen, grinding the tip down into your desk. _Keep your mouth shut,_ you chanted in your head. _They’re not worth it. Keep your mouth shut. They’re not worth it._ You continued to chant it throughout Mr. Flutesnoot’s instructions and mini-lesson on factors to consider during the design stage.

“Alright, talk to your partners and discuss. What materials are you going to use? Play with the simulators to design the nose cone and wings and any other modifications you may want to make. Yes, Mr. Cabot?”

“We can’t make this into an actual rocket right. Like, substitute real gas for water?”

Mr. Flutesnoot narrowed his eyes in confusion as you pressed your pen tip even harder into the desk. “No, you can’t use rocket fuel.”

“Well there goes the Unit-Bomber’s big plans,” Cabot snickered. You slammed your pen down and turned to Sweet Pea.

“So, any ideas?” you asked, sort of breathless. He jerked a little in his seat eyeing you, as if suddenly aware that you were about to go off at any second.

He shrugged his shoulders with a small shake of his head, and you gave a tight-lipped smile, pulling a laptop in between the two of you. “Why don’t you play with the simulation, and I’ll research what materials will work the best?”

“She has to tell him what to do because he’s too stupid to actually understand directions,” the voice came from behind you.

You watched as Sweet Pea’s face went suddenly white and then dark, a snarl growing on his face and his fist clenching. If he had been a bit faster, he might have threatened to rip their throats out if they didn’t cut the shit or some other kind of barbaric and totally justifiable punishment.

But he wasn’t as fast as you

“Hey, so, if you’re going to talk shit about us, can you at least try to keep it down a little?” you asked, your voice a vitriolic sort of cheery. “Or, I don’t know, make it vaguer who you’re talking about? We just get kind of distracted by how bad you are at it.”

The rage was wiped away from Sweet Pea’s face, replaced with a suspicious confusion.

The two boys behind you looked at each other as if trying to decide who would respond to your constructive criticism of their assholery.

“Ok, you’re confused. Umm, quick tips–” you started, hearing the classroom around you gradually grow quieter. “When you’re talking about someone behind their back it usually means that they can’t hear you. Not that you’re literally behind their back.”

Foley’s face was now completely blank. Cabot looked kind of annoyed.

“And if you were trying to _bully_ us, you usually don’t target a gang member who can beat the _shit_ out of you. So cliff notes version: _shut the fuck up._ ”

“Ms. L/N!” your teacher reprimanded.

“Sorry, Mr. Flutesnoot,” you apologized, turning back in your chair to focus on the work.

"Freak,” one of the boys muttered.

“Just one more quick thing,” you turned back around. “Your material’s old. The whole Unit-Bomber thing is last year. This year I’m the weird bitch who does shit like this–sorry, Mr. Flutesnoot–and also, hating the Serpents and Southsiders died with the Black Hood. So if you can stop distracting my lab partner with your mediocre middle school bitching, that would be great.”

Silence followed as the class waited to see if and how they would respond.

“Are you finished Ms. L/N?” Mr. Flutesnoot asked, crossing his arms.

“I think so. You got anything?” you asked, turning to Sweet Pea. He shook his head. “You guys?” Cabot flicked a finger. You swiveled back to face your rather put-out looking science teacher. “I’m sorry, I don’t think it’ll happen again.”

Mr. Flutesnoot nodded. “Right, well. The next person who starts it back up is going to find themselves in Mr. Weatherbee’s office.”

“Ok,” you agreed before turning back to Sweet Pea who was looking at you as if you’d suddenly turned into a werewolf or had just started speaking Dothraki or something. “So you’re good with the simulator?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and the two of you began work.

* * *

To some extent, you expected there to be _some_ kind of blowback from you snapping in class yesterday. Earlier in the year, a freshman had snapped on a group of juniors, and the phone footage had gone viral, spawning the hashtag #thehallsarenotyourplayground (which coincidentally had made quite the resurgence when the Serpents rolled into town). 

So, you were fairly surprised that aside from a few whispers and the casual wide-eyed look from people who were in your science class, no one brought it up. It didn’t become a thing. The was no hashtag.

If you had to guess it was mostly because everyone else was sick of Cabot’s shit too and there were bigger and better things to whisper about.

Betty Cooper’s dad was the fucking Black Hood. 

Veronica’s jailbird father was first gentleman of Riverdale. 

Some weird shit had been going on in Greendale.

And Betty Cooper’s dad was the _fucking_ Black Hood.

So, by the time you walked into science class at the end of the day, it was hardly surprising that Foley and Cabot glared darkly at you and the rest of the class watched vigilantly as you walked down the aisle to take your seat, only to find other things to direct their attention at when no words passed between you and Cabot.

You quietly went about drawing your notebook from your backpack, flipping the pages to find the notes you jotted down yesterday. Both you and Sweet Pea had made good headway on your specific tasks. In fact, so far Sweet Pea hadn’t really needed any hints or oversight from you. You had given him control of the simulations primarily because you already knew exactly what shapes are the best, but he had come to similar conclusions on his own. One day and you were beginning to think that this partnership may actually work out; you wouldn’t have to take over the project and do it all by yourself as per usual.

A stack of books dropped into the table signaling Sweet Pea’s arrival.

“Hey,” he greeted and you glanced up at him, your brows furrowed in slight confusion.

“Uh hey,” you said still staring at him suspiciously. Greetings were not part of the normal. In all honesty, talking wasn’t part of the normal.

He nodded before sitting down, looking as content as if the two of you had carried out a whole conversation as opposed to three words. _Oooookay then_ , you thought to yourself, turning back to your notebook as Mr. Flutesnoot began class with the reminder that today was your last day of building the rocket and on Monday you would do launches. He finished his spiel, walking over to his desk to his usual hiding spot behind his computer.

You slid out of your stool without a word to Sweet Pea and walked to the front table, perusing the different materials and selecting the ones closest to what your research turned up.

“You know students used to set off real model rockets,” Cabot said casually, sidling up beside you and grabbing the same material you had just grabbed for your fins. “Now they can’t even trust us with matches because of you.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up some masking tape. “I didn’t use matches,” you mumbled.

He snorted, bumping into you as he picked up some masking tape as well. “I’m still surprised they let you back. Then again, it seems like now Riverdale will let _anyone_ walk through its doors. Bombmaker. Drug dealers. Gang members. I bet they’d even let that murderer back if Ms. Klump hadn’t shot him.”

You dropped the masking tape, picking up some duct tape instead as you glared at him. He smiled smugly. “Just stating facts,” he said lightly, exchanging his masking tape for duct tape.

“Someday someone’s going to kick your ass, and I can’t wait to stand there and watch.”

“Is that a threat?” Cabot asked, watching as you turned on your heel and headed back for your chair.

“Just stating facts,” you threw over your shoulder. _Besides,_ you thought to yourself. _If I was going to threaten you, I would point out just how easy it is to torch someone’s car._

You arrived back at your seat, slamming the materials down on the table. Sweet Pea looked up at you from his work with a questioning glance. “You good?” he asked.

“Fine. Ready to work,” you answered, shaking off the comment and the strange feeling that came from Sweet Pea actually noticing your frustration this time. He nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced until his eyes fell on Cabot making his way back to the table behind you. His face darkened, but you didn’t have time for his anger issues. “Can I see what you’ve got?” you asked, pointing to the notebook. He nodded, pushing it over to you so that you could read it more easily.

As expected, all of his conclusions were accurate. “Good call with the fins,” you said, nodding. “Not a lot of people think about making them different sizes in the simulator.”

Sweet Pea furrowed his brow at you for a second before you scrawled onto the edge of his paper. _Fucking with them._ You drew an arrow pointing back at Cabot and Foley who had gone suspiciously quiet behind you, the same way they had all year whenever it came to listening in on your work with whoever your partner was. Sure, it was perfectly fine to treat you like shit, but you always listened to the girl who knew enough to get you a free day in science class. It wasn’t incompetence that got you the name Unit-Bomber and everyone knew it.

Sweet Pea nodded, his lips quirking up into a distant relative of a smile. “Thanks.”

“So, you cut these two the same size, and I’ll cut the other ones into the short and the long one,” you grinned back. Sweet Pea took the material from you and began tracing the shape he’d researched as you waited for the scissors and the pieces he was cutting to make them the same size.

You heard the whispers of Cabot and Foley behind you followed by the quick scratching out of something in a notebook.

“Perfect triangles?” Sweet Pea asked, holding up the fins for only you to see.

“Perfect triangles,” you smiled. Taking one and using it to trace the pattern of the remaining two fins. There was more whispered argument behind you, and a devilish grin crossed your face. Sweet Pea shared the look.

Physics had just gotten fun again.

* * *

It felt like ever since they caught the real Black Hood, the student body of Riverdale High found any reason to party. 

AP testing was over? Party to celebrate your brains no longer being molten lava. 

Dr. Johnson went home sick today? Party to celebrate a sub tomorrow. 

Kelly Gordon got a new haircut? Party to show it off. 

Student Body President elections right around the corner? Party to influence the vote.

That was how you ended up in Cheryl Blossom’s house at ten o'clock on a Saturday night with a beer in hand. You’d had a flyer shoved into your hand by Veronica Lodge, and with nothing better to do, you’d decided that after the Black Hood maybe you were someone who went to parties.

But even if you had suddenly become someone who went to parties, you still weren’t the girl in the middle of the dance floor laughing and screaming and surrounded by a large group of friends.

You stood off to the edges of the dance floor, close to the speaker, attempting to give yourself permanent hearing loss and maybe destroy your liver while you were at it. It was easy to lose yourself in the base–to let it take control of your heartbeat and run through your blood along with the liquor. It only took half an hour for you to stop thinking about the sound waves and frequencies and to just have fun like a normal teenage girl out at a party.

You let yourself go until you finished your second beer, and you departed from the safety of your spot for a refill.

It would have been nice if you really had blown out your hearing.

Because maybe then, when you made your way out of the living room, you wouldn’t have heard Ginger Lopez’ not-so-quiet comment.

“She invited the Unit-Bomber?”

You paused, your grip around your beer can tightening.

“You know what they say,” Tina Patel smirked, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Every vote counts.”

“I don’t know, I think they could do without _one,_ ” Ginger snickered and Tina laughed.

“Someone should keep an eye on her. The last thing Cheryl needs is having _another_ house burn down.”

You took a deep breath and started moving again, making sure to bump shoulders with a laughing Tina as you passed by. Based on the screams that followed in your wake, her drink had sloshed into at least one of them. You grinned, moving deeper into the house where hopefully the proportion of bitches was smaller.

Thankfully, it seemed like it was. While still heavily populated, everyone in the kitchen was for the most part too far gone or pre-occupied to worry about the black sheep in their midst. You headed over to the table where drinks were piled. On your way, Ben Button was pushed sideways, bumping into you so that you stumbled into the tall figure standing next to the drinks table.

“Shit, sorry,” you mumbled, looking up at the figure who turned around and peered down at you. Your eyes widened slightly with shock, seeing Sweet Pea frowning at you. Taking in your face, his shoulders relaxed a little and his brow smoothed.

“Could have just said hey.” It was hard to tell if he was teasing you or angry based on the look on his face. He wasn’t smiling, and his eyebrows were raised.

“Hey,” you greeted, tentatively, reaching behind him to grab another beer.

“Hey,” he answered, turning to face you fully. The people next to him moved away a little and your gaze fell back on him. He looked down at you expectantly as if you really _had_ run into him on purpose and now had to carry a conversation.

“So you’re supporting Andrews now?” you asked with an eyebrow raised.

Sweet Pea shrugged. “Toni invited me.”

“Forced you to come, you mean.” You immediately regretted the snarky and weird way the words sounded falling from your lips. He didn’t seem phased at all but shook his head slightly with a shrug.

“What about you? Don’t strike me as an Andrews fan.”

“I came to be swayed. You know, see what my vote was worth,” you nodded, taking a swig of your drink.

“And it’s worth….this party?”

You shrugged. “Better than a cupcake.”

He snorted and shook his head at you. A silence settled between you two, not altogether uncomfortable but not exactly companionable either.

“Well, don’t let me keep you from your friends,” you said, taking a step backward.

He rolled his eyes. “Topaz left with Blossom a while ago. I think they’re upstairs.” _And Fangs was still in recovery._ “But I guess you should get back to your friends.”

You shrugged. “I came alone.” There was a pause as his brow furrowed lightly and he gave a slight nod in response to the statement. “I don’t need moral support to get drunk and dance,” you added, punctuating the statement with a sip of your beer.

He snorted again, and you grinned, basking in the warm feeling of triumph. You had made Sweet Pea, The Angry Gangster, laugh. Twice.

This time, he fully nodded, his eyes running over your body. “So, since neither of us has any friends to get back to, maybe we should stick together? It might make this party a little less…shitty.”

“This party is far from shitty,” you scoffed. “Free booze. Decent music. And just enough jingle jangle to make most of the people here not assholes. This is as good as it gets on the Northside. Besides,” you took a few steps away from him, heading back towards the music. “I’m happy being by myself. See you later.”

He raised his drink as a goodbye, and you turned around, taking a sip of yours to try to keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

It took about twenty minutes for you to realize that Sweet Pea may have been onto something when he said the party was shitty.

It was a gradual shift. The music got louder, and the bodies got a little bit closer, pushing in at all sides until you couldn’t help but brush up against somebody every time you danced. Everyone’s eyes were glazed. Girls’ voices got higher pitched, and boys spoke less. A bad feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach, but it wasn’t until you felt the cool trickle of beer dripping down your arm from where someone had just sloshed their drink on you as they tried to pass that you realized this party was no longer the best the Northside had to offer. You turned your arm in front of you, looking down to assess the damage only to realize you didn’t have a napkin. You heaved a suffering sigh, staring up at the sky before bringing your eyes back down to the party and catching Sweet Pea’s gaze. You placed two fingers to your head, cocked the makeshift gun and pulled the trigger, your head jerking to the side with the force of the imaginary bullet.

A smile crossed Sweet Pea’s lips as he tipped some of his beer onto the ground. You smiled as well before turning and heading closer to the speaker system and proverbial higher ground.

It was only fifteen minutes until the next hint that this party had taken a downward turn. While shattering your eardrums seemed inevitable, the earsplitting music seemed to keep most of the drunks away and provide you with a little room to breathe. You were even managing to enjoy yourself once again. And then your eyes landed on Sweet Pea.

Or rather, your eyes landed on the blonde girl who was writhing all over the front of his body. Every time he backed away she would follow, too far gone to process the rejection, judging by the way she couldn’t keep her head up and her hips couldn’t quite match the tempo of the music. He looked up with a face of disgust that melted away for the most part when he caught your gaze. Instead, he lifted a fist and pounded it into his chest several times before his head lolled to the side. You laughed at the brutal stabbing scene before dragging your attention away to continue dancing.

You managed to stick it out for almost another full twenty minutes before suddenly the song that was blasting out of the speaker next to you turned to “Shots.”

You swore loudly. Not loudly enough to be heard over the dulcet does of LMFAO, but loudly enough for a drunk girl to look at you as if you were crazy. Your eyes quickly scanned the crowd and it seemed like his must have been too because you found Sweet Pea’s gaze in record time. You threw back an imaginary shot before clutching your throat and slowly sinking down into the crowd. When you rose back up he was smiling. He jerked his head towards the kitchen, and despite the fact that you were moderately enjoying your time alone, you found your feet leading you off of the dance floor.

By the time you reached the kitchen, he already had two shots in his hand–courtesy of a wasted Reggie Mantle–and passed one to you.

“So maybe you knew what you were talking about when you said this party was going to be shitty if we didn’t stick together,” you said, clinking your glass to his and throwing it back. The cheap Vodka burned on the way down, but it numbed you a little to the party.

“Of course I was.” He hadn’t even winced at his shot. He plucked the cup out of your hand, putting it back on the counter and grabbing two beers instead, passing one to you.

You cracked the can open, taking a sip—a watery chaser to the burning liquor. “Well,” you gasped slightly as you finished your drink. “At least you got the true Northside experience before it imploded.”

“Imploding isn’t the Northside experience?” Sweet Pea quirked an eyebrow.

“Aw,“ you put a hand over your heart. "You get us.”

He exhaled a laugh, taking a drink, and a small silence settled between the two of you. “So, you still happy by yourself?“ Sweet Pea asked.

You raised your eyebrows. "You know when you say it like that, it almost sounds like an innuendo.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he just inclined his head towards you.

You offered half a smile, shaking your head. "I’m always happy on my own. Not sure if you picked up on this in physics, but I’m not exactly a people person.”

“I don’t know, I thought it was generous of you to try to help Cabot and Foley out with their rocket,” he offered straight-faced.

You smirked and gave a casual shrug as you took a sip of what was essentially alcoholic tap water. “Anyway, I think you’re better off without me hanging around. You seem like you’ve been having a _pretty_ good time on your own.”

He stared at you blankly.

“I saw you having a _blast_ with Heather.” His face dropped and you burst into laughter. “Not into Northside girls?”

“Not girls like that,” Sweet Pea answered flatly.

“Shame, she seemed to really like you,” you pushed. “You’ll break her heart.”

“She’s not even going to remember any of it tomorrow.”

“I mean, that is kind of the point of drinking at parties,” you said, toasting him before downing the rest of your beer. His eyes narrowed slightly as he seemed to give you an assessing kind of look. You slammed your can down onto the counter.

“Well, I’m going to take off. Leave before the cops come,” you announced.

"Need a ride?” He asked, and you tipped your head sharply to give him a questioning look. He was staring down at you with an almost challenging look. You squinted your own eyes attempting to size up the offer.

Accept a ride home from a Southside Serpent? Bad idea. 

Accept a ride home from your lab partner? Not as bad. 

Accept a ride home from Sweet Pea?

You shook your head. “I’m sure you can guess what I’m about to say.”

“You’re good on your own?” He guessed disbelieving.

You gave him finger guns and to be honest you weren’t even sure you could blame it on the drinks. “I can walk from here,” you said, straightening back up.

"By yourself at this time at night?”

“Survived the Black Hood, so I’m feeling lucky. Besides if someone kills me it saves me the trouble of the massive hangover I’m destined to have tomorrow.”

Sweet Pea shook his head slightly, his lips quirking into his almost smile. “See you on Monday, then.”

“Maybe,” you threw over your shoulder. This time you didn’t even bother to hide the smile.

* * *

Your walk home was uneventful. As a result, the weekend was swallowed up by a massive hangover on Saturday and rushing to do all of your homework on Sunday. By the time school came around Monday morning you hardly felt ready or rested and judging by the other zombies roaming the halls of Riverdale High, the rest of the student population was in a similar situation.

The day passed in a slow and dull sort of misery.

Until physics.

“Grab your rocket and then line up by the door, we’re going out to the field.” Mr. Flutesnoot greeted. The majority of your chemistry class was already along the wall, and you headed to the back to grab your rocket and join the rest of the class.

Scanning down the line you looked over the different versions of rockets. Some basic but functional and colorful. Others sleek and potentially good enough to give yours a run for its money. And a few were true disasters.

Among this category was Cabot and Foley’s. Because not only had they listened to every last sabotaged direction that you and Sweet Pea has given them, but they hadn’t even followed them _well_.

The thing had triangle fins of three different sizes and slightly varying shapes. The weight was focused in the bottom of the rocket and the nose cone was sharply pointed. Sweet Pea had tried to get them to cut holes in the rocket, but realizing that’d be taking it a bit too far and even Cabot and Foley weren’t that stupid, you’d corrected him. That said, when he had them tape the whole thing with several layers of duct tape, you’d shrugged and let it go.

“Grab your rocket and then line up by the door, we’re going out to the field.” Mr. Flutesnoot said from the entrance of the classroom. You looked up from the line, your eyes falling on Sweet Pea who was scanning the line for you.

You held up, Ophiocus, and he caught sight of your green bottle, coming down to stand next to you.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you answered. He looked no worse for wear than usual. His hair curled above his eye in the way it usually did, and the dark circles that had been under his eyes ever since the riot seemed fainter if anything.

“How was your weekend?”

“Well, I’m here and breathing so you can guess how Saturday went,” you quipped. “You?”

“‘S fine.”

The bell rang and you waited for the sound to die down before you continued the conversation, but before you could get a word in, Mr. Flutesnoot started. “Alright, out to the field. Remember I expect you to walk through the halls quietly and _respectfully_.” You rolled your eyes but quietly trudged out behind the rest of your class.

“Did you see their rocket?” you murmured to Sweet Pea. He shook his head, stepping out from the line and craning his neck a little to see it. It wasn’t until the line turned to go out the side door that his eyes lit up and he fell back into step with you.

“You’re vicious.”

“I can’t wait to see it fly.” You flashed a crocodile smile.

Luckily you didn’t have to wait long. Their rocket was selected among the first ones to go, and when they brought it up for launch even Mr. Flutesnoot winced at the sight of it. When he backed up to set off the rocket you reached out and grabbed Sweet Pea’s bicep, squeezing it tightly in excitement. He looked down at you, and if your eyes hadn’t been fixated on the rocket that was about to go up, you might have noticed the warm amusement on his face.

“3-2-1,” you chanted along with the rest of the class.

The rocket made it up just a couple of feet before making a hard tilt and crashing down into the ground.

It was the worst one so far. And while the rest of the class giggled lightly at it, you roared with laughter at the looks of shock and confusion on their face, doubling over and clutching your sides.

“Ms. Collings!” Mr. Flutesnoot admonished.

“I’m sorry,” you straightened, wiping the tears from your eyes and shutting your mouth to keep the next burst of laughter in at the looks of sudden realization and anger that flashed across their faces. “I know they worked hard on it,” you added trying to suppress a smile. Next to you, Sweet Pea snorted.

“Alright, well, let’s see yours then,” Mr. Flutesnoot said, as if your rocket would be a similar failure and teach you how bad it was to make fun of other kids in class.

You strode forward, handing him the bottle to set up before stepping back slightly to watch it. Sweet Pea moved up next to you.

The pair of you counted down along with the rest of the class, watching as the water poured out and your bottle shot up into the sky soaring far out over the field.

When it finally landed, a slightly shocked Mr. Flutesnoot directed Sweet Pea to measure the distance the rocket flew. And as he stood there watching Sweet Pea run out, you took the opportunity to turn to Cabot and Fletcher, both of your arms straight out in front of you, middle fingers high, one for each asshole.

But that moment was nothing to when, after Dilton came back with the distance his rocket flew, it was determined that your rocket was the top performer.

“Yes!” Sweet Pea shouted, punching the sky. The rest of the class offered some halfhearted congratulations, and you beamed at him.

“Congratulations the extra credit is yours,” Mr. Flutesnoot announced. “Everyone let’s head back in.”

“That was incredible. Fangs would’ve loved that shit,” Sweet Pea said. A glimmer of something shone in his eyes before the look passed.

“You know,” you said, casually. “This experiment is entirely reproducible at home.”

“Maybe the rocket, but how’d you launch it?”

“Bike pump,” you answered, simply.

He nodded, the grin reappearing on his face. Which slid off as Cabot pushed past, shouldering you. “Fucking Unit-Bomber.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sweet Pea barked. Your eyes flicked up to Mr. Flutesnoot who was busy opening the doors to the school ahead.

“Why don’t you make me?” Cabot spun around stepping up into Sweet Pea’s face. Sweet Pea pushed him backwards, and Cabot pushed Sweet Pea. A few of the other Serpents in class noticed the scuffle and ran back to step in and crowd Cabot.

“Alright guys back in the building!” Mr. Flutesnoot called. Your attention snapped to him, seeing him craning his neck to see what was happening and who should be written up. Cabot held up his hands in the face of all the Serpents and under the scrutiny of your physics teacher.

Little bitch.

“Better a Unit-Bomber than a dumbass,” you remarked, walking past Cabot who was still held there by the rest of the Serpents until you and Sweet Pea were back in the building.

“You good?” Sweet Pea asked with a quick glance down at you as you rubbed your shoulder.

“Fine,” you shrugged, letting your hand drop.

His eyes remained on you, and you met his gaze, a strange and completely unwelcome flipping sensation in your stomach. You shook your head, stepping into the classroom, pushing the feeling down. You’d deal with this later.

* * *

The bell rang, signaling the end of physics and the fact that only one more class stood between you and the weekend.

“Hey, Kristina,” Sweet Pea called out, stopping you on your way out of the classroom. You slowed down, waiting for him to catch up so you could walk out together. “I was thinking, do you come over to the quarry after school?”

You narrowed your eyes, looking at him suspiciously, ignoring the way your heart seemed to speed up a little at the offer. “Why?” You asked, drawing out the word.

“I got stuff to make a bottle rocket with Fangs. Thought we could use your expertise.“

You grew stiff and your face went blank. There it was. There was always something. “My expertise as the Unit-Bomber?”

Sweet Pea’s head snapped to you. “You think I’d say that?”

You gave a jerky shrug, looking straight ahead and continuing to your math class.

“Or do you just not want to be seen on the Southside?”

“Think what you want,” you said quietly, your throat feeling tight with disappointment.

Next to you, Sweet Pea bristled. “I asked because I thought you’d enjoy it but forget it,” he stormed off.

Guilt flooded through you. This _always_ happened. Fuck. Things were easier when you just stayed by yourself. “Wait,” you called out, hurrying after him. “I’m sorry. I’m not… I don’t…” you ran a hand through your hair. “Can you give me a ride?”

Sweet Pea’s face remained stony as he looked back at you. You stood in silence until the warning bell rang. His shoulders didn’t relax. He didn’t ease up. Instead he said, “I’ll meet you out front after school.”

You were surprised when he actually pulled up and parked his bike out front at the end of the day.

You walked up to the bike. “Hey,” you said, softly.

“Hey.” The word came out short, and he didn’t offer anything else except for an intense stare.

Despite the fact that your skin tingled with discomfort, you refused to break his gaze. “Can we forget about how I was a touchy asshole who is apparently new to the concept of friendship?”

Sweet Pea snorted and visibly relaxed, shaking his head. “Get on the bike.”

You hauled yourself onto the back, wrapping your arms around his middle and trying to lose yourself to the feeling of the wind in your hair and sun on your face as he tore out of the parking lot and towards the quarry.

The drive passed mostly in silence. Slightly more comfortable than your other silences if only because you were fairly sure you’d have to lean up and shout in his ear for him to actually hear you. Instead, you occupied yourself by watching the landscape pass and ignoring the way your arms wound their way tighter around him every time he turned. Kind of like how, when you arrived, you fought to keep down the shock and outrage at his living situation.

He lived in a tent.

In fact, it seemed like most of the Southside now lived in tents. And it seemed like complete bullshit that the mayor or someone hadn’t spoken up to address the fact that half the town had lost their housing and were now living with minimal running water and plumbing.

If it weren’t for years of practice pushing things down, Sweet Pea might have seen it all on your face. But instead he looked at you and found only a blank sort of contentment. “Fangs!” Sweet Pea called, and out of a nearby tent popped Fangs Fogarty’s head.

He didn’t look like he’d been shot just a couple of weeks ago. His smile was bright and genuine even as he hauled himself up on crutches and hobbled out to greet you.

“Hey, what’s up?” He greeted, coming over to you. You moved a little faster to meet him halfway.

“Fangs, Kristina. Kristina, Fangs,” Sweet Pea introduced before disappearing into a tent. The introduction was hardly necessary. Everyone in Riverdale knew exactly who Fangs Fogarty was.

“Heard a lot about you,” Fangs said, reaching a hand forward and you shook it even as you cast a glance at Sweet Pea’s tent. Fangs chuckled at the look on your face. “You’re one of the few Northsiders Sweet Pea thinks ‘Isn’t that bad.’” You snorted.

“Wow. High praise,” you said flatly, and Fangs full out laughed.

“For him? It’s about the same as declaring—“

“Shut up,” Sweet Pea cut him off, appearing with a couple of grocery store bags. “Or I’ll throw your crutches in the lake.”

“Whatever man I’m about to be off them anyway,” Fangs dismissed goodnaturedly but thankfully didn’t finish his statement.

“Sooo rockets?” you asked, changing the topic just in case Fangs decided he did want to make things more uncomfortable than they already were.

Fangs grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Yes.”

You wished you could have blamed how bad Fangs was at building rockets on the fact that he was injured. But given that most of his tasks were literally groundwork, it really came down to the fact that he was too excited and a shit listener. Without your constant intervention and shouting at him, the rockets would have turned out similarly to the SS Clusterfuck you saw in physics. As a result, it took twice as long to build the damn things than it should have, but eventually you had your rockets, Cobra, Viper, and Galileo ready to go on the launcher you talked Sweet Pea through building.

And while Fangs was a shitty engineer, at least he was funny and a good conversationalist and had just enough of a saving grace personality for you to not want to drown him in the quarry like you would have for anyone else.

“Mine first,” Fangs declared, pushing Cobra into your hands. You rolled your eyes and set it up, looking back at the boys.

“Ready?” You called back, and they flashed a thumbs up.

“Go!” You shouted, moving back towards them as Fangs pushed down on the tire pump, sending the rocket up. It was fairly impressive the thing went up at all.

He let out a whoop as if he had actually been a part of a real-life rocket launch. Behind the three of you there was some clapping. You turned to see Toni Topaz standing with Cheryl Blossom.

“Impressive Fangs,” Toni commented with a smile.

“Wanna set one off, Topaz?” Sweet Pea asked, holding Viper out to her.

“Nah, we’re heading over to Cheryl’s, I just had to grab a few things,” Toni shook her head, disappearing into her tent. It was hard to miss the way Sweet Pea’s face fell.

“Teaching them all your tricks Unit-Bomber?” Cheryl asked, quirking an eyebrow with a smug little smile. You glowered at her.

“Why? Looking for new ways to set your house on fire?” You shot back.

“Shit,” Fangs remarked.

Cheryl stepped forward and opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by Toni who re-emerged from her tent. “Ready to go, babe?” she asked, looking expectantly at Cheryl. The redhead plastered on a smile.

“No need to be here when Kristina inevitably blows up half the tents.”

Well, shit. Toni was making her soft.

You watched as they climbed onto their motorcycles and pulled away.

“I’ll say it: that was incredible,” Fangs said, looking over to you. “You out bitched the bitch.”

You shrugged, feeling significantly worse than five minutes ago.

“Why’d she call you the Unit-Bomber?” Fangs asked, genuinely. Sweet Pea reached over and hit him upside the head. “The fuck?”

“It’s what everyone calls me,” you shrugged, sitting down on the ground next to Fangs. “It’s Riverdale. You do one thing and suddenly that’s all you are. You guys know that.”

A shadowlike feeling settled over the group as the three of you looked out over the water.

“What’d you do?” Fangs asked, breaking the silence. Sweet Pea hissed words you didn’t catch. “What? She knows what I did. Half the town knows about your anger issues—“

“I caused an explosion during a unit final last year in chemistry. By accident,” you added.

“You are too good at science for it to have been an accident,” Sweet Pea commented.

You rested your head on your knees. “Well, it was.” You simply hadn’t known that the reaction would go that wrong and be that big. It had nothing to do with the fact that your boyfriend just broke up with you because you refused to tell him you loved him, so you canceled class because you wanted to go home, not sit behind him in chemistry.

The silence once more settled over your group, each of you in your own thoughts and miles away from the quarry.

That was, until Fangs spoke. “Well let’s blow some more shit up. By accident.”

* * *

“What are we doing today?” Fangs asked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together in his excitement. You rolled your eyes, continuing to unpack the contents of your grocery store bag onto the bank of the quarry.

After the first bottle rocket experiment, Fangs had insisted you come back to teach other 'actually cool science experiments.’ _“You can homeschool me until I’m cleared to go back,”_ he’d suggested. And like a sucker you fell for it. Even after Fangs returned to school, you always found yourself climbing onto Sweet Pea’s motorcycle and riding down to the quarry with them.

 _Out of habit._ You told yourself. Because that’s definitely why you did it. Habit. Nothing else.

As a result, there was a direct relationship between the proximity to summer and the frequency of you exploding shit on the Southside.

“Well if Sweet Pea remembered to get the brake fluid this time, I think we’re ready for a real explosion,” you answered, your eyes darting up to Fangs just in time to see the look of absolute glee light up his face.

“I have it. Hold on, it’s in my tent,” Sweet Pea grumbled, disappearing into his tent to grab the supplies. Neither you nor Fangs had let it go for the entire week that last Friday Sweet Pea had forgotten the crucial part of your experiment. As a result, the three of you had resorted to sitting by the quarry’s edge and just talking for five hours. It was boring, uncomfortable, awkward, and the reason you were thoroughly convinced that these boys may just be your best friends.

“Fangs,” you directed, holding out the Dr. Bob soda bottle.

“On it,” he chirped, ripping the label off of the bottle before unscrewing the cap and beginning to chug down the drink. You watched him, counting in your head as the off-brand soda slowly disappeared, stopping when Fangs finally pulled away. Half of the bottle was empty.

“31,” you announced. “Best yet.”

“I can do better,” Fangs said, punctuating the statement with a burp. He handed the bottle off to Sweet Pea who had reappeared with the brake fluid in hand. He reached down, offering the chemicals to you, and you took it from him, your fingers brushing against his. Your skin tingled at the contact, and as normal, you swallowed hard and ignored it. Sweet Pea did too, instead bringing the Dr. Bob to his lips and gulping down the soda quickly. By the time he was finished, only a little remained in each of the pockets at the bottom. You took it from him, careful to grab it at the top and away from his hand and finished it off.

You also pulled out the notably smaller plastic water bottle and finished that by yourself.

“Alright,” you gasped, putting the water bottle down. “I need you to fill the chlorine up until here.” You pointed to a groove on the water bottle and let your shoulders drop when Sweet Pea took the bag of chlorine from Fangs. As always he stopped right when he was supposed to, placing the water bottle back on the ground next to you.

You offered the soda bottle up to Fangs, and he took it, swapping Sweet Pea for the chlorine.

“Fangs, I swear you better listen to me,” you warned, rising up from where you crouched to point a finger at him threateningly.

“I always listen to you,” Fangs scoffed, rolling his eyes and stepping forward towards the bottle.

“I mean it. This is actually dangerous.”

“I mean it too,” he agreed, but that damn glint was in his eyes, and you knew you were in for it.

“So when I say stop, you’re actually going to stop pouring it into the bottle.”

“Relax. Trust me,” he soothed.

“No.” Both you and Sweet Pea spoke the word at the same time, and Fangs face split into a grin.

“Ok, I promise I’ll stop after you say stop,” he agreed, and you nodded so that Sweet Pea reached out the bottle for Fangs to pour the chlorine in. You kept a careful eye on the mark you set in your head, watching as the chlorine fell to the bottom of the bottle.

“Stop,” you instructed a little before the mark. The chlorine continued to pour.

“Just a little more,” Fangs stated, his lips twitching into a smile.

“Fangs, stop,” you snapped as the chlorine piled up over the mark.

“I am–”

Sweet Pea yanked the bottle away from Fangs and some of the chlorine fell out onto the bank of the quarry. He held the bottle out with one hand and punched Fangs hard in the arm with another. Fangs swore as he laughed.

“Give me that,” you said, taking the bottle from Sweet Pea and glaring at Fangs. “You’re the worst science student. You know that right?”

“You’re saying that because I’m from the Southside,” he folded his arms.

You shook your head, turning away to place the bottles even closer to the water. “I’m saying that because you’re a moron. Sweet Pea, can I have the brake fluid?”

“Sometimes you’re just as mean as Toni,” Fangs complained.

“She’s meaner. That’s what makes her such a good replacement,” Sweet Pea corrected.

You looked over your shoulder at Sweet Pea, your eyebrows furrowing. “Stop saying that.”

“What that you’re mean?” Fangs teased.

You stood up straighter, crossing your arms against your chest. “No, stop calling me a replacement.”

“What should we call you then? An upgrade?” Sweet Pea smirked.

You shook your head, maintaining your serious expression and ignoring the way your stomach dropped at his words. While he had been making fewer and fewer comments about Toni (maybe due to the fact that she and Cheryl stopped by less and less), there was always one or two about how they didn’t need her now that they had you. And you didn’t like them. You weren’t sure why. “You can’t just replace someone Sweet Pea, that’s not how it works. People are different.”

The smiles fell from the boys’ faces. “We know that,” Fangs said, earnestly. “It’s just a joke. Right?” He hit Sweet Pea in the shoulder who nodded. His face had a new look on it. Something you hadn’t seen before and couldn’t quite trace to a specific emotion or thought. You decided you didn’t like it though. It made you squirm.

“Ok,” you swallowed, tearing your eyes from Sweet Pea and turning around back to the bottles. “Bring me the brake fluid.

You didn’t look to see who pushed the container into your hand, focusing instead on pouring a proportionate amount of fluid into each container and swirling it to mix it.

"Alright, step back,” you instructed, and the boys followed you back to stand a few feet away, all of your eyes glued to the bottles.

The three of you waited in silence. Fangs leaning on your shoulder and Sweet Pea standing so close that if he were just a centimeter to the left, his arm would be touching yours. You waited as a minute passed.

“Fangs, you fucked it up,” Sweet Pea commented.

“No,” you turned, tilting your head up to face him. “Chemistry takes time.”

He raised his eyebrows and moved a fraction of an inch closer so that his arm bumped against yours. You turned your attention back to the experiment and shifted to your left, leaning more into Fangs.

A new silence enveloped the three of you, this one slightly less comfortable than the last. So much so that twenty seconds later you were stepping forward towards the bottles. “Maybe I should have shaken them more—”

A _whoosh_ of fire shot up from water bottle, flames shooting up to five feet high. You jumped, but before you could step back or react in any other way the soda bottle burst into flame with a roar, pieces of chlorine shooting up out of the bottle and whizzing past you. A hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you back as the three of you scrambled away to escape the burning bottle.

To your left you could hear Fangs’ uncontrollable laughter as you slowed to a stop, colliding with Sweet Pea. His arms wrapped around you to steady you, and you glanced up at him. “You good?” he asked, looking down at you with that face again. Your mouth seemed to go dry and the world seemed to spin, and one word rang through your head: _out._

You stepped out of his grip, whirling on Fangs with your chest heaving, ignoring the way Sweet Pea’s face fell.

“You almost killed me!” you shouted.

“I didn’t tell you to step forward,” he protested hands up, his eyes flicking from you to the smoldering remains of plastic. You opened your mouth to argue but instead laughter burst out. And then Fangs was laughing again. And Sweet Pea. And the three of you laughed until you cried and then you scavenged bottles from around the campsite to continue setting off explosions until it got dark.

* * *

You had taken to sticking around until it got dark after that. Most of the time the three of you would make dinner and eat together after the experiment, and then you’d talk until one of the boys offered to take you home.

Tonight, Fangs had let you know that he wouldn’t be available to chauffeur you. “I have a rendezvous,” he announced a little while after dinner, standing up from where the three of you had been stargazing.

“A rendezvous?” you repeated, leaning up on your forearms. “With who?”

“I don’t kiss and tell, you should know that,” he winked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Just make sure you don’t get shot this time,” Sweet Pea called out from his position on the ground.

Fangs flipped him off, turning to head over to the motorcycle, and you watched him go, a small spark of anxiety making it’s home in your chest. You turned to look at Sweet Pea. “Do you know who?”

“Could be anyone,” Sweet Pea shrugged, continuing to look up at the stars. You stared at him for a second longer, trying to figure out if he was deflecting or if he really didn’t care before laying back down next to him.

It was tempting to push it. To see what he knew about Fangs’ love life. But something about the thought of continuing this conversation set off warning bells. _Change the topic,_ the little voice told you. 

“You know,” you said, tucking your arms under your head. “I used to want to be an astronaut.”

“Really?” Sweet Pea asked, turning his head to look at you.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, keeping your eyes on the stars. “Back before I realized how much fun it is to blow shit up.”

Sweet Pea snorted, returning his gaze back up to the stars. “Why?”

“They’re so far away from all the bullshit,” you whispered expecting to hear him snort again, but instead he was quiet. “And when I look at them, I don’t feel so…” you trailed off, your chest growing tight with discomfort as you treaded close to the intimate. You abandoned the statement, taking a different route. “They just make you realize how small all of us are in the grand scheme of things. I like that.” Sweet Pea was still quiet next to you and that tight feeling took hold of you once more. You’d shared too much. Gone too deep. You turned to him, fully intending to make a sarcastic comment–something, anything to alleviate the tension, but when you faced him you found that his eyes were on you once more, and your throat closed up, not letting any of the words that you’d planned get out.

“I like that too,” he said. His eyes remained fixed on yours, and even though you desperately wanted to look away and back up at the stars or anywhere else, you stayed focused on him. Because dammit, you were going to keep this friendship. You would not self-eject. You would not break away. You would keep eye contact and continue the heart to heart even if it felt like you were being strangled by every prolonged silence.

“Can I ask you a question and you won’t be on my shit for getting too personal?”

“Depends on the question,” you offered a wavering smile before breaking your promise to yourself and staring back up at the stars, your eyes searching for familiar constellations, anything to separate you from the thoughts and the uncomfortableness of living in your own body.

“Do you really like being by yourself?”

You were somewhat relieved, and a wistful sort of sigh escaped you. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Sweet Pea repeated.

“I can’t do…I’m not a feelings person. It’s easier to be by myself.” You let a hand fall to the grass, twisting a couple of blades before tugging them out of the earth. “But it’s not always…good.”

Beside you, Sweet Pea started to laugh, and you swung out your fist, bringing it down to punch him in the stomach. The air left him in a quick exhale even as he continued to try to laugh. “You really are bad at feelings.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, a prickly feeling on your skin. “I was being honest.”

Sweet Pea attempted to pull himself together. “I know, just…you couldn’t find a better word than 'good’?”

“This is why I don’t do this shit,” you grumbled pushing yourself up into a sitting position so you could get up.

Sweet Pea’s hand darted out and grabbed your forearm. “Hey, I’m sorry, stay.”

“Not unless we change the subject,” you glowered.

The corner of Sweet Pea’s mouth quirked up. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Tell me something embarrassing. Or don’t. We can talk about motorcycles or movies or Hot Dog or anything else,” you suggested, breaking from his grip and wrapping your arms around your knees.

Sweet Pea was quiet again, and you wondered if you could somehow disappear at this moment. You could just get up and walk away. Tell him that it was past midnight and you were tired.

“Can I tell you about this girl I like? Or will that make you uncomfortable?” Your stomach rolled, and you suddenly felt the urge to vomit. Instead you shrugged.

“As long as you don’t expect me to tap into my romantic side and give some love advice, it should be fine.” Your voice came out thankfully flat and sarcastic. You could practically feel Sweet Pea rolling his eyes.

“Like I need love advice from a robot,” he scoffed, and you ignored the twinge of pain in your chest but didn’t bother to hide the annoyance from your face.

If he noticed the fact that your spine straightened and you grew still, he didn’t say anything. There was definitely no apology. Instead, he heaved a dreamy sort of sigh. A sound that quite frankly you should never have heard come out of Sweet Pea’s mouth.

“Alright, _Romeo,_ spill.”

“She’s just extraordinary,” he stated simply. A part of you wished you had laid back down so you could sneak a look at his face, but you couldn’t move. Instead, you picked at your nails, letting your science partner turned friend–probably best friend–spill his guts. “I don’t know her that well…we just started talking a little in school, but I noticed her the first time I ever walked in Riverdale. She just has that sort of presence you know? When she walks into a room, people notice. And not just because she’s beautiful. It’s like, you can sense how confident she is. And she should be. She’s the best at what she does, and I just know she’s going to make it big one day, so I kind of want to take my chance now before I lose it forever…” he trailed off and you chanced a glance at him. He was staring up at the stars wistfully, and you looked back down at the ground, rolling a twig between your fingers. “I don’t know. Even though she’s a Northsider, she’s kind of…intimidating. Hard to make a move on.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “If she’s intimidating, she’s probably used to guys keeping their distance and never saying anything,” you murmured. “Maybe take it slow. Play the long game.”

“You know that almost sounds like love advice.”

You turned back at him, throwing the stick you were twirling so it bounced off his side and onto the ground. He smiled and looked back up at the stars. “I don’t know. She seems more like a bold move type of girl.”

You shrugged. “I’m just a robot.”

He didn’t say anything. And despite yourself, you could feel your hopes slightly raise.

“But you think I should take a chance?”

Your heart beat faster. “Yeah,” you whispered.

He nodded, thinking it over. “Maybe I’ll ask her in math or something.”

Your stomach dropped. You couldn’t tell if it was in relief or something else. Because that would be wrapped up in your knot of feelings. What you could tell–what was factual–was that you and Sweet Pea did not have math class together.

* * *

That was the last time you saw Sweet Pea.

At least, it felt that way.

You started riding down to the quarry on the back of Fangs’ bike, Sweet Pea meeting up with you later mid-way through the experiments. At first, you had made jokes that you needed him there in order to keep Fangs in line. After all, if he was gone, who was going to actually help you with the experiment?

But then he started coming just to watch the results of the experiments.

And then it started to take him hours to come back to the campsite, and he missed them completely, having to ask questions about just why there was rainbow covered foam everywhere or what had that charred out bottle even been originally.

And then he stopped asking about the experiments. By the last day of school he stopped coming at all.

It was the second week of summer before either you or Fangs talked about it.

The two of you sat by the edge of the quarry, covered in paint and the marks of your explosions littering the trees and the ground around you. It had been your most successful Post-Sweet Pea experiment yet. Presumably because Fangs was allowed to shake up the experiments and hurl ziplock baggies full of paint anywhere he wanted. The experiment was practically tailored to his destructive soul.

It was probably the post-chaos peace, the most disarming kind of quiet and calm there was, that made him ask.

“So,” Fangs said slowly, looking over at you out of the corner of his eye. “How are you doing?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you turned to face him. “Good?”

He let out an amused exhale, shaking his head. “I mean with the whole Josie thing.”

“Oh,” you responded, still confused. “Also good?”

“Good,” Fangs said, turning his full attention back out to the quarry.

You followed suit, watching as the water gently moved, the sunlight reflecting off the surface so that the water glittered. You tried to keep your mind focused on how beautiful the day was. How nice it felt to feel the sun on your skin. How peaceful the quiet was and how you didn’t feel suffocated in silence when you were next to Fangs. Being still next to him was easy in a way it just wasn’t with Sweet Pea.

“Why?” The word escaped. Lulled out of you by the calm afternoon and immediately your stomach clenched. You could see Fangs shift to face you slightly, his eyes running over the profile of your face as you purposefully kept your eyes out on the quarry, staying as still as possible.

Fangs shrugged, joining you once more in looking out over the water. “I just thought the two of you would be a thing.”

Your heart stopped. Everything stopped. You’d been expecting it to some extent, but still. Carefully, you pushed down all of the feelings and discomfort that rose in your chest, keeping your mind focused on the moment you were in now, not letting it slide back to the night you and Sweet Pea stared at the stars or any of the times you rode on the back of his motorcycle, your arms wrapped around his middle to get to here. You focused instead on the facts. 

  * Sweet Pea and you had never been anything more than friends. 
  * You had gone into this wanting to be friends only. 
  * Friendship was easier. 
  * Friendship was safer.



“We’re just friends,” you said picking up a rock and throwing it into the water. “It’s cool.”

“Cool,” Fangs echoed. He didn’t say anything else, and after a while you let yourself be wrapped up in the silence too, enjoying just sitting with him.

* * *

You meant what you told Fangs.

You and Sweet Pea were only ever friends. Just friends.

You believed it with every fiber of your being.

Until you saw him and Josie at Sweetwater River.

While you spent most of your evenings with Fangs, destroying shit, causing mayhem and laughing until you couldn’t breathe, you enjoyed spending the long summer days by yourself. Sometimes it was reading. Other times it was gardening. And on days as hot as today, you would go swimming, regardless of the risks.

You pulled your car in behind a maroon sedan, throwing the keys into your bag with your towel and heading down to the secluded spot on the river you favored. The fact that there was another car parked by the river wasn’t too unusual. After all, it was the best parking space, nearest to where the river was widest and most of the high school kids and college kids home from break did their swimming. Your spot was firmly in the other direction, a narrow section of the river where it was a little shallower and therefore not _quite_ as dangerous to swim alone in.

Due to the trees and brush surrounding the path, it wasn’t until you were most of the way down to your spot that you saw them.

Laying out on a blanket, Sweet Pea hovered over Josie as she wrapped herself around him. You snapped your eyes shut, turning quickly and trying to block out the breathy sounds that were escaping her as you scrambled back up the path. You felt dizzy and nauseous. Even after you climbed into the front seat of your car and slammed the door shut.

You held on tightly to the steering wheel. So tightly your knuckles were white and your elbows locked into place and your back pushed against the seat of the car. And then you saw it again. Sweet Pea’s hands gripping at Josie’s chest as he kissed at the underside of her jaw. The look of ecstasy on Josie’s face as she gripped tightly onto Sweet Pea’s shoulders, his hand moving and cupping the side of her neck as he dipped his head to kiss along her collarbone.

You collapsed suddenly, your forehead banging against the wheel as you choked out a sob. Your body shuddered and shook with the force of your crying as you beat the wheel with the palm of your hand, every now and then missing the edge and startling the animals nearby with a honk.

It took a few minutes before you pulled yourself together enough to sit up, shoot off a text, shift your car into drive, and start back onto the main road.

It was another twenty minutes or so before you parked at the edge of the Sunnyside Trailer Park campsite.

“Hey, Kristina are you ok?” Fangs asked, coming to meet you as you slammed your car door closed, brushing past him as you stormed down to the riverbank, the plastic grocery store bag swishing and bouncing against your leg.

“Let’s blow some shit up.” Your voice was still gravelly, and you were certain your eyes were still red and wet. You may’ve even had a red mark on your forehead

To his credit, he didn’t try to make you talk. He turned on his heel and followed you down to the river bank, following your instructions precisely before standing back and waiting patiently as you poured toilet bowl cleaner into the different plastic bottles. You walked backward slowly, your eyes on the bottles, only stopping when you felt your arm brush against Fangs’.

You watched as the bottles slowly filled with white smoke, the plastic expanding and elongating before finally erupting loudly, one after each other.

Fangs chanced a glance at you, concern and hesitation obvious as he stared at the tear streaks running down your face. You wiped them off with the back of your hand. “It’s just the loud noises,” you mumbled weakly, and he nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you stared at the smoking remains of your bottle rockets. You stood there completely still for a minute, maybe two before you turned into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you, holding you close as you sobbed onto his shirt.

* * *

Neither of you talked about that day ever again.

You found other conversation topics to fill up your summer. From Archie Andrew’s court case, to Fangs string of unnamed conquests, to new methods of creating explosions, and once or twice the proposition that you should join the Southside Serpents.

You didn’t go anywhere besides your home and the Quarry, and as it turned out, you liked your summer that way. It was safer. Better. No anxiety that you might run into anyone you didn’t want to see. Which was why when Fangs invited you to come to Cheryl’s end of summer pool party with him, you declined.

Because everyone would be there.

Fangs didn’t try to convince you to change your mind. Because he was the best friend you could ever wish for. He didn’t even tell you how in one week you were going to have to face the facts whether you wanted to or not. He nodded and mentioned offhand that Jughead had asked him and Sweet Pea to meet here in fifteen minutes. Which coincidentally reminded you of the chores your mother had asked you to do at home that you needed to get to immediately.

And that was why you were entirely unprepared to find Sweet Pea by your locker at the end of the first day of school.

“Hey,” he smiled.

You didn’t say anything, focusing on keeping your hands still, keeping your face straight, keeping your shit together. You raised your eyebrows, silently moving to open your locker. Sweet Pea turned, leaning his shoulder on the locker next to you.

“You look familiar. Weren’t we lab partners or something last year?”

“Or something,” you remarked quietly, putting your books back into your locker.

He snorted and ran a hand through his hair. “How was your summer?”

“Good,” you shrugged. You tugged your backpack out, slipping it onto your shoulder.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Fangs told me about some of the shit you did.” You hummed, closing your locker door and ignoring the way his eyebrows furrowed. “We should do a repeat tonight.”

You paused, keeping your hand on your locker. “I can’t.”

“Hey,” Fangs greeted, coming up to the two of you and hanging an arm over Sweet Pea’s shoulder despite the height difference. Both you and Sweet Pea ignored the greeting.

“Why not?” Sweet Pea asked, shrugging Fangs’ arm off of his shoulder.

Your eyes found Fangs’ and then darted back to your locker. “I have homework for my AP classes already. Sorry,” you said firmly and with noticeably absent sympathy. “I’ll see you guys later.” You gave them a brief tight-lipped smile before turning around speed walking your way to the bus.

* * *

You thought that maybe after the first week back your stomach would stop doing that dropping thing every time you saw him.

It didn’t.

You also thought that maybe after the first couple of weeks you wouldn’t want to throw up every time you saw Josie.

You still did.

Even though you _knew_ she and Sweet Pea weren’t together, you could still hear those sounds in your head which almost made it impossible to _not_ puke.

But it did get easier to not think about it over a few weeks. You changed your seat in all of the classes you shared together, sitting in the front of the classroom, closest to the door so it was easy to scoot out. You ate lunch in the band practice rooms, primarily because it was easier to hide there than anywhere else and the band teacher had long since given up on enforcing school rules. You started to remember why you loved being alone so much.

By the time it was almost the end of the third week of school, you had once again perfected the art of being by yourself. Only caving every now and then to respond to Fangs’ texts.

Life was better this way.

* * *

“Collings!” You had been on your way to English when suddenly someone had grabbed your arm, pulling you to a stop. You jumped a little, turning to see Sweet Pea holding you by your bicep. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to class?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at him and attempting to calm your rapidly beating heart.

“No,” he pulled you over to the side of the hallway and you stumbled a few steps before ripping your arm out of his grasp.

“Let go, shit,” you mumbled, turning your arm to look at it as if expecting to see some kind of damage.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Sweet Pea demanded, folding his arms as he stared down at you.

“I’m not. I’m going to class. Trying to get an education,” you rolled your eyes attempting to push past him.

He stopped you, grabbing you by the shoulders and bringing you back to face him. “Cut the bullshit.”

“Get your hands off of me,” you snapped, your eyes darting around him to see other students slowing down on their way to class to watch the confrontation. As if you were a spectacular car crash for them witness and assess the damage. Sweet Pea let go immediately, but his face grew darker.

“What’s your problem?”

“No problem.” You shrugged, keeping your face closed off and distant.

“So you’re pretending I don’t exist for….fun?” Sweet Pea guessed. “That’s fucked up, Kristina.”

Your eyes followed the students who were now blatantly rubbernecking, looking anywhere other than Sweet Pea. “Like you can talk.” 

"What’s that supposed to mean?”

 _No emotion. No feelings. Nothing. Just facts._ you chanted to yourself. _Just state the facts._

“Just that it’s pretty convenient you want to exist and be a part of my life now, but where were you this summer?”

“I was busy,” he said exasperatedly as if you were some toddler who didn’t understand why her parents went to work instead of playing with her all day.

“And now I am. Sorry I don’t fit into your schedule,” you shrugged, moving past him and out into the hall. The warning bell rang. It was the surprising sound that made your eyes sting.

“I thought we were friends,” his voice called at your back. You whirled around, finding him much closer than expected. So close that if you had wanted to, you could have easily stabbed a finger into his chest. But you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to ever touch him.

“Yeah, so did I. Until I sat by the quarry all summer with Fangs while you were busy fucking Josie all over town.” You turned back around to head off to class. “Fuck off,” you called over your shoulder.

* * *

“Did you have to yell at him?” Fangs asked, leaning against the locker next to yours. You looked up slightly startled from where you had been exchanging your books. “Because he’s being a huge pain in the ass now.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you answered, shoving harder on your binder to try to get it to fit inside.

“Of course not.”

You glared at him but didn’t rise to the bait.

“You told him you saw him and Josie?” he raised his eyebrows.

“I told _you_ I don’t want to talk about it.” You rotated the binder, hoping to fit it in the new way, pushing it until finally it slipped past the edge of the door.

Fangs sighed. “We didn’t talk about it all summer. Give me this one conversation now.”

“No.” You slammed your locker closed, starting to walk away.

“This is why,” he stated to your back, and you turned to face him, shocked to hear any sort of annoyance pass Fangs’ lips. The words weren’t heated, more exasperated. “This is why you two are so fucked.”

You crossed your arms and remained silent.

“Neither of you will talk to the other.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit.” Fangs dismissed. “You like him. He likes you. Discuss.”

“Sweet Pea didn’t tell you? I’m just a robot. Nothing to discuss" 

"You’re not a robot. You may not like to talk about your feelings, but it doesn’t change the fact that you have them.”

You felt indignant. At least you tried to hold onto that feeling even as your chin began to quiver. Fangs’ shoulders dropped as he stared at you, taking a few steps closer.

“It’s not fair.” Your voice came out petulant and broken. “Why do I have to forgive him and get over it, and he gets to do whatever he wants. He ignored me for _months_ but I can’t do it for like three weeks?”

“Are you really that petty?”

“Yes,“ you answered. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to him, Kristina. Tell him about the day you went to Sweetwater River.”

“No. Never.”

“Then don’t. Just stop making me watch whatever this is,” he said, and with that he turned around and left you standing in the middle of the hallway.

* * *

You got fairly good at avoiding both Sweet Pea and Fangs after that. If anything, the confrontation with Fangs was a reminder of why it was _always_ better to be by yourself. Even friends got too annoyingly involved for their own good. Analyzing you. Evaluating your emotions and your actions. Eventually everyone expected too much out of you.

And you didn’t need that bullshit.

What you needed was to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and carry on without them. Like always. Show them you didn’t need their approval. You didn’t need their advice. You didn’t need their presence in your life.

You were happy alone.

You were fine alone.

You would be ok alone

As soon as you showed them you didn’t need them.

And that was exactly the opportunity presented to you by Veronica Lodge’s invitation to attend her new speakeasy’s opening night. It was also the reason you got dressed up as requested and put more than a minuscule effort into your appearance for once in your life. Because you wanted them to see that you were _thriving_ own your own. And he could just eat his heart out that he had to live without you from now on. They. You meant they.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, instead focusing on the details of the room around you. At how absolutely fabulous everything looked. The old-fashioned lighting. The velvet curtained stage. The classmates dressed in dazzling clothes. Everything exuded charm and class, and it was easy to lose yourself in the time capsule.

"Hey.”

You turned to face the person who greeted you, ignoring the lurch in your stomach that you wished would vanish.

Sweet Pea stood there, hands in his pockets, staring down at you. He was dressed head to toe in black, his silky button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows and arms decked out with the usual bracelets he never took off. You couldn’t help but notice the absence of his dog tags and wondered if he tucked them in for the night or left them at home. You hated yourself for noticing.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, and he stepped closer, and now you couldn’t help but notice that despite the fact he dressed up his hair was still a tousled mess, falling over his forehead in random curls.

Dammit.

“I didn’t think I you’d come to this thing,” he said with an exhale, stopping a few feet away.

“Why not? I like mocktails and music,” you shrugged, swirling your own mocktail in your hand as if the action gave more authenticity to your words.

“Josie’s singing,” he answered simply. It took everything in you to keep eye contact.

“So?”

“I didn’t think you liked her.”

You shrugged, taking a careful sip of your drink. “I don’t have any problems with Josie.”

“Then why were you on my shit about this summer?” his eyes narrowed.

“Because it wasn’t particularly fun being blown off all summer regardless of you were spending time with,” you answered, tightly.

Sweet Pea crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow. “What happened to you like being alone?”

You paused, and his eyes glittered with triumph. Inside your chest, your heart constricted as if it recognized defeat as well, and the only honorable way out was through a sudden heart attack and death.

“Fuck this,” you muttered, placing your drink on the bar and brushing past him to dart up the stairs.

He followed, pushing people out of the way in his haste to catch up to you. “Can you stop leaving every conversation I try to have with you?” he called at your back as the two of you rushed through Pop’s and out the front doors.

You stopped and spun. “Why? There’s nothing to talk about. I thought we’d hang out this summer; we didn’t. Obviously we’re not as close as I thought. We’re on the same page now.”

“Why are you so mad about this?” he shouted, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Why are you so mad I’m ignoring you now?” you returned, watching people scramble to get out of their cars and speed walk inside. As if they were running away from a bomb they knew was about to explode. Which might be appropriate.

“Because it doesn’t make any fucking sense!” he held out his hands as if he wanted to strangle you but instead curled them into fists and shook a little.

“I missed you, you dumbass!” You blurted out, chest heaving as you stared at him. He took the confession in the same way you imagined he’d take a punch. A look of shock passed over his face as he stepped back towards Pop’s and then seemed to regain his balance and took a step forward. Your shoulders dropped as the anger seemed to drain from you, leaving you with all of the feelings you’d been so careful to push down. “All summer. I missed you. And you didn’t miss me because you had _her_ ,” you continued softly.

“What?” He asked trying to follow your words as your face heated up like it was on fire, and you felt like you wanted to cry or throw up or explode into tiny bits. You pressed your lips together, trying to keep it in, keep it down. You offered a jerky shrug. “So what was this all some kind of revenge?”

You shook your head.

“Then why the hell were you ignoring me if you missed me?”

You looked away from him.

“Dammit, Kristina!” he shouted, and you turned back to him.

And in the next second you darted forwards swiftly putting a hand on his shoulder to help launch yourself up, standing on your tiptoes and leaning into him, pressing your lips to his. His hands caught your waist, almost reflexively, supporting you even though his lips didn’t move. Didn’t press into yours. Didn’t open. Didn’t do anything.

You pulled back, sinking down onto your heels. Sweet Pea didn’t say anything. Or move his hands. Instead he looked down at you with an eyebrow quirked.

You had thought—You swallowed the thought, pushing it down with the other ones, and letting the feeling that you had taken a bad situation and fucked it up even more wash over you. _Fucking feelings._ Your lips moved, trying to make any sort of words, but every time you attempted to say something your voice caught in your throat. “I can’t–” you finally whispered, attempting to take a step back and out of Sweet Pea’s grasp, but his hands tightened on your hips.

His face still seemed angry. Maybe even more now than before you had kissed him. “You’ve been avoiding me because you have feelings for me?”

You looked down at your feet.

“How long?”

You shook your head.

“How long?” His voice was slightly angrier, and he gently shook you by your waist.

“Since we set off the rockets in class,” you whispered, still refusing to meet his eye.

He exhaled a disbelieving kind of laugh. “And you let me feel like an ass for liking you? And then again for having a summer fling so I could move on from you since you were clearly not interested?”

It would have been nice if you could tell him that you had no idea he liked you. Tell him that you hadn’t purposefully distanced yourself and tried to make it seem like you weren’t interested. That you hadn’t convinced yourself you weren’t interested. Because then you wouldn’t have felt like such shit in this moment.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was still quiet. “I wanted to save you from this.”

“This?”

“Me. Being a disaster who can’t feelings. This always happens. It’s why I blew up a lab. It’s why I’m alone. I’m broken, ok? Just let me avoid you, and you’ll be better off.”

“No.” Sweet Pea said quietly, pulling you closer to him.

“No?” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted it to.

“Not this time. No,” he shook his head.

“It’ll just get worse.”

“We’ll work it out.”

You felt the familiar claustrophobic panic rise in your chest. The one from the way he looked at you the first time you set off an explosion by the quarry. The one that had taken hold of you at the lake while you were gazing at stars with him all those months ago. You looked up into his eyes and found them fixated on you, and it all felt like too much. The fact that he knew you liked him. And he liked you. And you guys would be in a relationship. Together. And how could a robot like you ever deserve someone like him or even come close to making him feel as happy as you did when the two of you were running away from a soda bottle that was about to explode.

But the promise of more moments like those and not having to see him with someone else, the knowledge that to some extent he hated not being with you too, the feeling of having him stand close to you with his hands firmly on your body. Those things would be enough to push through this moment and maybe even the next.

“Ok,” you whispered, looking up at him.

“Good,” he nodded, bending over and capturing your lips into his. And it felt like bottle rockets. Not the thrill of setting one off and waiting too long to run away, but as if you were the water bottle expanding and expanding, full of longing and anxiety and happiness and other emotions you weren’t sure the names of, and now, kissing Sweet Pea, you were exploding into a billion pieces, feeling everything all at once and enjoying every second of it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a Tumblr request  
> hello!! could you maybe write something where the reader was a northsider friends with sweet pea and he kind of ignored her while he was with Josie for the summer and now the reader is ignoring him and he’s feeling miserable because he misses his friend (and maybe has actual feelings for her)? thank you 💚 


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